


Under the Fireflies We Danced

by SilverMiko



Series: A Funny Girl That Belle [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMiko/pseuds/SilverMiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for a ball at the Dark Castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Fireflies We Danced

“Batten down the hatches, dearie, we are throwing a party!”   
Belle looked up from polishing the silverware at the familiar falsetto tones of the Dark One, arching an eyebrow.  
“Forgive me, but I do not see you as the type for such diversions. Is this a special occasion?”  
Rumplestiltskin made his usual dramatic posturing, and danced around the large dining room.  
“Why the autumn harvest is upon us, and in these parts we herald the season in with a ball, a masquerade for all those who walk the dark path. This is our time, dearie, where the days grow short and the nights are long.”  
“I see. In my kingdom the villagers celebrate a bit differently. They have a large bonfire in the square, and mull the juice of pumpkins and apples with spices.”  
Rumplestiltskin moved towards her, leaning against the end of the table she worked at.  
“And you enjoyed this rustic ritual?”  
“Very much. You’d feel much the same if you ever tasted our famous cider. Some of the farmers even brewed it like an ale, but I always had it without spirits.”  
She smiled at the memory, and noticed he looked at her a tad longer than he normally did, head cocked to side. He was studying her, lately, it seemed as if it’s all he did. Perhaps she was a puzzle he had yet to sort out, and inside it gave her a thrill to know she had the great and powerful Dark One guessing at her.  
He broke his gaze, swiftly moving away from the table and around the room.   
“Well dearie, there will be much work to do and I will need your assistance through and through. A party cannot decorate itself, you know! If you do a credible job I may even let you attend.”  
She furrowed her eyebrows.  
“I do not have anything to wear to what sounds like such an extravagant party, but I thank you nonetheless for the invite. Where shall we start?”  
“Much like any group, they’ll be most interested in the food. A menu first! Come to my study when you’re done and we shall discuss your task list.”  
“As you wish, sir.”  
He sauntered off as he did, and she shook her head.  
She thought she had him figured out, but to throw a party dashed some of her expectations of the man. A shame she had nothing to wear.

***

The ballroom looked magnificent and something out of a dream. Belle had been so used to it being dark and empty, but now gossamer filament hung from the ceiling and magical lights shaped like fireflies softly lighted the room. The rich black velvet curtains had been shook out, and the contrast was not as jarring as she thought it would be.  
She watched from the corner of the entryway as many masked figures twirled to the music or idled around the perimeter of the dance floor in conversation. Some were not human, but their masks did not afford her a good guess of what they were. Rumplestiltskin was off in a corner talking to a woman elaborately dressed like in a black gown with a bodice that had a silver spider web design all over, making her look every inch a black widow. Her mask was also black with silver lacing and there were feathers crowning her dark hair. At first, Belle felt strangeness in her chest, a tightness at Rumplestiltskin in such close conversation with the woman, but soon it became apparent from his expression she was not particularly a friend. He shook his head at the woman and departed from her company, but she seemed nonplussed and went to dance with a tall man dressed as a scarlet demon.  
It was probably wrong to spy this long, if she were smart she’d return to her chambers or go read in the library until she was called upon. As she turned to depart, she bumped headlong into someone, her vision full of white ruffles.  
“Beg you pardon,” she said quickly, ducking her head in apologies.  
She was met with an annoyed scoff.  
“Really girl, and why should I? You clearly are not paying much attention and too busy skulking about in shadows.”  
He was tall, the stranger she knocked into, wearing a ruffled white shirt under a blue brocade coat, pants far tighter than proper with tall black boots, and his hair long and blond and yet spiky at the same time. His face reminded Belle of an owl, with the hooked nose and exotic features.  
“I really do apologize, sir, I was simply on my way back to my room.”  
“Your room? Bloody goodness, I see the Dark One has now taken the odd predilection of collecting human girls. One would think he had the sense to choose a more brilliant jewel.”  
Instead of contrite, Belle now felt insulted and color rose to her cheeks.  
“Sir, I am part of no one’s collection!”  
“Oh? Perhaps he has lowered himself to such a base level as to fall for you and lose his heart to such a creature? And now I have seen it all.”  
Anger flared through her, and she was not sure whom she was insulted for: herself, the Dark One, or both of them.   
What both failed to notice was the very subject of their discussion striding towards them, curious of the exchange he happened to notice his Belle, for whether he liked it or not he had long since felt possessive of his hostage/servant/guest, having with one of his more illustrious and infamous guests.   
“It is not like that, I assure you, you are mistaken in the nature of our relationship.”  
The blond man chuckled.  
“Am I now? I think you protest too much.”  
Rumplestiltskin moved to intercede, but Belle’s next words made him pause.  
“Sir, your assumptions are not only incorrect but you have managed to insult myself and the Dark One greatly and I shall not stand here and listen a moment longer. Good day,” she said sternly, the last words sharp and cutting.  
She stormed off down the corridor, and Rumplestiltskin approached, clapping with amused applause.  
“Well well well, my dear Goblin King, looks like that little human girl gave you quite the tongue lashing. Perhaps I should cut yours out for your rudeness?”   
The Goblin King shook his head.  
“You used to have more of a sense of humor, Rumplestiltskin.”  
“And you used to be more gallant, Jareth, but then I heard some whispers in the wind you yourself suffered a sizeable humiliation. Was that not at the hands of a simple girl? How curious, and how bitter the loss has left you.”  
Jareth’s face darkened, and Rumplestiltskin knew he hit a nerve, a large nerve.   
“I warn you, Dark One, never let them under your skin. Never move the stars for them. They never understand our kind and leave in the end.”  
‘I was their kind, once,’ Rumplestiltskin thought.  
“Well dearie, not in her case. We have a contract and she’s mine for the rest of her life. Next time, you should get a contract. Until then, enjoy the party. I must see to some matters.”  
Rumplestiltskin left the Goblin King behind, with all the appearance of nonchalance, but he was now on a mission. He walked up the stairs and to the East Wing, towards Belle’s room.   
The girl herself sat in an armchair by the fire reading the same page over and over, until she chucked the book to the floor with a sigh. She did not know why that man’s words bothered her so much. It was a ridiculous notion, really. Yes, perhaps their daily pleasantries had softened, and sometimes Rumplestiltskin confided things in her, but likely more out of loneliness than any tender feelings. Foolish to think anything more of it.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She stood and opened the door, expecting a person on the other side. Instead she was met with a swath of rich, royal blue silk and a piece of parchment floating mid-air. 

Hello Dearie,

I have found your work towards the masquerade satisfactory, and have decided to graciously allow you to attend tonight’s festivities, however, I cannot have you attend in plain rags. This dress will suffice to keep up appearances. 

The corners of her mouth tilted up as a grin broke out on Belle’s lips. Perhaps she was not the only one full of surprise behavior. She grabbed the dress and closed the door, her spirits high.  
Rumplestiltskin stood by the refreshments table, listening to an imp rattle on about the annoying prissiness of fairies, when he saw her. The blue was a good choice; it set off the auburn in her hair, which she had piled atop her head in a mess of curls. A matching blue mask adorned her face. She moved assured through the crowd, but then she was a princess and accustomed to balls. Even away from her castle her innate poise and grace remained intact. She looked around the crowd, and spotting him moved in his direction.  
“I see the dress fits and you’ve decided to not hide in your room. Good thing I didn’t go to the trouble to call you down for nothing.”   
She smiled, blue eyes twinkling.  
“Thank you, Rumplestiltskin. The dress is lovely.”  
He made a dismissive motion and handed her a cup. She accepted, and he watched her lift the cup to her mouth and sip. Her eyes widened.  
“Mulled cider!”  
“Yes well, you made it sound like ambrosia itself and ‘tis the season for it. Is it as you remember?”  
She nodded, taking a large gulp.  
“Yes! Possibly better.”  
It was almost disgusting how glad he was she was pleased.  
“I suppose you want to dance? I’m sure I could scare up a sorcerer or goblin as a partner.”  
He did not like the idea even as it came out of his mouth.   
She shook her head.  
“I would prefer to dance with our host, who has not set one foot on the dance floor all night.”  
“Ah, spying were you dearie?”  
“I was making sure things went off without a hitch. What do you say, oh Dark One? Is dancing one of your many powers?”  
Rumplestiltskin could not remember the last time he danced. For a long time it was impossible for him, when he was a crippled coward.   
“It’s been a long time, Belle.” He whispered, in his real voice, not the high pitched one he hid behind.  
She took his hand.  
“Better late than never again.”  
He let her lead him to the floor. The violins began, their notes piercing and sweet, as Rumplestiltskin danced with Belle, performing the turns and hands skimming hers as they spun about. It was not a close dance, but it was the closest he felt to a woman in a long, long time.   
He saw the Goblin King out of the corner of his eye. A cautionary tale, it would do Rumplestiltskin no good to end up in such a state of embarrassment and defeat. He would not make the mistakes Jareth had. He would not arrange his world around the whims of one girl, not like that. Whatever Belle was to him—hostage, servant, guest, or companion—she was his for the rest of her life as long as he saw fit.   
They had a deal, on his terms.  
Under the twinkling lights, they danced on.


End file.
